Cold
by AtticStairs
Summary: This is my first ever fanfic. I hope you all like it! Please like my page on Facebook, 'Holly Lis.' I'm currently in the process of writing a novel and I would be very grateful for the support.
1. Chapter 1

It's a strange thing, really, to be kidnapped. You see it all the time on the news, but you never think it will happen to you. I was one of those people who thought they were invincible from those horrible breed of creatures who can unfortunately classify themselves as human beings. Most people think death is the worse fate you can suffer, but to me, it's being held hostage; alone and forgotten. No one would know what had happened to that poor girl from Marchton, West Virginia. I would just be another statistic of unsolved disappearances. All these thoughts ran through my mind at the moment of my abduction, but little did I know, there was someone out there looking for me: someone who changed my life and taught me that I am never truly alone.

Today's the day that will change my life forever. I can finally leave this dreadful place that I'm supposed to call home. Ever since I remember, I had been living with my adoptive family, the Winstons: Clark and Kelsey. My mother died when I was just a baby, so I don't even remember her. I was never able to find out who my father was, or if he was even alive. The Winstons took me in and raised me as their own. They were both strict and weren't afraid to provide what they called 'proper discipline.' Their son, Wyatt, treated me the same. When I was 21, I immediately went to the courthouse and changed my last name from Winston to my mother's maiden name, Young.

When the Winstons discovered that I had changed my name, they went haywire. Kelsey kicked me out of the house and Clark threw a lamp at my head, shattering it into a million pieces. I went to go live with my friend, Elliot Nell. He took me to the emergency room for the gash that had been inflicted by the lamp. I knew he always had a crush on me, but because of Clark, Kelsey, and Wyatt, I have always been scared of forming close relationships with people.

Now that I was 29, I decided it was time for me to be more independent. It was a late start for someone to go out into the world and begin their life, but Elliot understood. He helped me pack my bags and get ready for my move to New York City. I had just received a letter in the mail a few days ago from The New York Times offering me a paid internship. It seemed like a dream come true. I could finally find my own place and the experience of working with The Times would help me become a better writer. Maybe I could even write my own book one day. The best part though, was that I was leaving Marchton. I had so many horrible memories from this place; it was time to leave it all behind.

Elliot snapped me out of my daydreaming by saying, "I'm gonna miss you, Harmony."

"I'll miss you, too, El," I said, as I put my suitcases in the back of his car.

He looked at his watch. "Your plane leaves soon. I guess we better get to the airport."

"Yeah," I said, surprised that I was feeling somewhat dismayed at the thought of leaving.

The car ride to the airport was mostly silent, the two of us sitting vigil for my departure. Before I got on the plane, I said goodbye to Elliot and thanked him for everything, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. He smiled, grabbed my shoulders, and told me that he'll always be there if I needed him.

During the whole flight I studied a map of New York City, finding the best way to get to my destination. I was meeting with my new manager at some building on Norwalk Avenue, across from a little coffee shop. Once I arrive, the manager, Mr. Carlton, will give me new directions to my apartment that they would be providing for me until I had enough money to pay rent myself.

I felt extremely flattered by this. They must've been impressed by my resume to do all of this for me. I looked out of the window from my plane seat and got a bird's eye view of the New York City skyline. It was stunning. I couldn't wait to get down on the ground. The plane landed at precisely 11:34 a.m. My meeting was at 12:30, so I quickly grabbed my things and hailed a taxi, already feeling very much like a true New Yorker. I told my driver the directions and he gave me a funny look, one which I didn't quite understand. It was a mix of happiness and apprehension. He drove me to my desired destination nonetheless.

Everything outside started turning abandoned and destitute and I wondered if we were going the right way. My heart pounded a little harder. When he pulled to the side of the road I paid him and he told me he'll help me with my bags. When I stepped out of the taxi, I heard him step out too and approach me quickly from behind. Before I could react, a cloth drenched in chloroform was covering my mouth and nose. I panicked, and my instincts took over. I held my breath for as long as I could and grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his hand away. When that didn't work, I dug my nails into his skin. The last thing I felt was his blood underneath my fingernails.


	2. Chapter 2

I slowly opened my eyes. I felt stiff and dizzy. I didn't recognize my surroundings, and that's when I remembered that I was in New York. This didn't look like a manager's office, though. Instead it looked like I was in an abandoned warehouse. My body was curled up on the concrete flooring. I heard shuffling and figured someone else was in here with me. I sat up quickly and looked around, until I finally saw someone. It wasn't the taxi driver, but a different man. He was balding and had a square face and glasses. I noticed two men standing behind him, each one armed with a gun.

"Glad to see you had a safe trip," said the bald man. I didn't really consider getting knocked out and kidnapped by a taxi driver a safe trip, but I stayed silent. "I'm Elias," he said, when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. He held out his hand and I just stared at it. I was still feeling stunned, like part of me was left outside, refusing to come in. "It's called a handshake," Elias said. I shook his hand. It was cold. I didn't like it. "Welcome to The New York Times," he said sarcastically and the two men behind him laughed.

He made a gesture with his hand and the two men holstered their guns and bound my hands and legs together. I fought pitifully, still feeling the effects of the chloroform. Before I knew it, I was gagged and my eyes were covered with a blindfold.

"For good measure," I heard one of the men say, right before I felt a kick to my head. I felt blood rush down my forehead and over my cheek, like a bloody teardrop. My sense of hearing was instantly heightened and I could hear footsteps and something sliding across the floor.

"Wait, not yet," I heard Elias say. "Leave her on the floor and take the picture now."

I had no clue what was going on. Who were these people and what did they want from me? I felt like I was in a nightmare and I was desperately trying to will myself to wake up. I heard the snap of a photo being taken.

"They should be here soon," Elias said. "Then we'll have both of them. John and his little friend."

I felt myself being lifted into an uncomfortable wooden chair. I wondered who John and his friend were, and why they would come to this horrible place after receiving a photo of me. If anything, I hoped John and his friend would call the cops. I heard footsteps and words being exchanged that I couldn't make out. All I could do now was wait. I was completely at their mercy.

….

Harold was sitting in his spinning chair in front of a series of computer monitors. Not much had been going on lately. _The numbers never stop coming_, he thought to himself, though recently they had been sparse. John was busy tracking someone's number that came up a few days ago, but from what Harold could tell, it was turning out to be an easy case. At least Carter or Fusco didn't need to be involved… yet. What Harold was most worried about was Elias and his relentless mob of hardened criminal masterminds.

Neither Harold nor John had any contact with Elias recently, and they both took that as a bad sign. For now, Harold was stuck watching the surveillance of an apartment building where their current number resided. He felt like he was starting to go cross-eyed from staring at the screen for hours on end, so he stood up to go grab a book from his limitless collection. As he stood, he heard a noise from his cell phone. He figured it was just John checking in, but he picked it up anyway.

Surprisingly, it was a picture message, and he opened it up impatiently waiting for it to load. His eyes widened when he saw the picture: a woman tied and bound with a bloodied face lying on the floor. The message said, "If you want her alive, come to the warehouse on Norwalk Avenue. Tonight."

He knew that this message was from Elias. Who else would it be from? And who was the woman in the picture? He quickly erased the question from his mind as he called John, hoping he wasn't busy. The sun was almost setting, and they needed to save this woman before it was too late. John picked up the phone, and before he could say anything, Harold said, "Mr. Reese, we have a problem. Get back here, now."

….

It seemed like I had been sitting in this chair for hours. Maybe they had forgotten about me. They left the warehouse almost immediately after snapping my picture. I had been trying to get my hands free, but it was just a waste of energy. They were tied together so tightly that it seemed like the blood had stopped flowing to my hands. The blindfold was still covering my eyes as well. I couldn't tell if it was dark outside yet, but judging from the length of time I had been sitting here, darkness would probably cover the sky soon. The only thing that kept my mind off of my hunger was the stinging bump on my head from when that guy kicked me. The dried blood on my face made me feel dirty and vulnerable. I maneuvered myself so that I was out of the chair and on my knees on the cold floor. I was able to spit out the cloth that was gagging me from my mouth and it hung around my neck like a necklace. I swung my legs around and started to bite at the rope that tied my legs together.

The sharp frays from the rope cut my lips and tongue, but I was finally able to undo the knot, freeing my legs. I thought about my hands now. They were tied behind my back, so there was no way I could undo them. The blindfold on my eyes was clinging tightly to my face, like it had received orders direct from Elias himself to not slip off from my eyes. I sighed in defeat, and remained sitting on the floor. They wanted me to sit in a chair. It was the only act of defiance that I was able to do at the moment, besides untying my legs and mouth. I waited; for Elias, for the two men, for John and his friend, for anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

John entered Harold's secret library-turned-house and walked up the stairs to where Harold kept all of his computers and equipment. "What's wrong, Finch?" He asked, wondering why he wanted him to return so quickly. Harold answered by showing him the picture on his cell phone. John studied it for awhile before asking, "Who is she?"

"I don't know," replied Harold. Just from looking at the picture, John had the sudden urge to help this unknown woman. He left without another word. The moon was rising.

…..

Inactivity made me feel sleepy while my hunger made me feel weak. I felt like curling up and falling asleep, then maybe I would wake up safe at home in my bed to the sounds of Elliot making coffee. My nerves refused to let me sleep, so instead I thoroughly assessed the situation I was in.

1. I left the Winstons and went to go live with Elliot.

2. I receive a letter from The Times promising me an internship.

3. I get to New York City and the taxi driver acts strange and ends up kidnapping me.

4. Some man named Elias holds me hostage in an old warehouse.

5. My fate relies on two people I don't even know: John and his unnamed friend.

It still made no sense. Why would they kidnap me? Did the Winstons have something to do with this? Or was it just a case of mistaken identity? Maybe they thought I was someone else. That had to be it.

I stood up, tired of waiting, and walked around carefully to get blood flowing through my system. I wished my hands weren't tied behind my back so I could feel against the walls for a door or a window.

As if the room itself was taunting me, I heard a door open somewhere. Footsteps approached me and two rough hands grabbed my arms forcefully, leading me back to the chair and making me sit.

"How'd she get free?" It was the voice of the man who kicked me in the head.

"Doesn't matter. She didn't escape." This voice was unfamiliar to me, but I figured it was the other gun wielding man who was with Elias.

Speak of the devil, Elias walked into the room saying, "See, John? She's okay, but she won't be for long if you don't do as I say."

The first time I heard John's voice, my heart felt like it had been hit with a jolt of electricity. I instantly felt safe. His voice resonated throughout the room softly, with an intonation so deep and sincere. "Elias, let her go now. She has nothing to do with this."

Elias must not have liked what John said because I felt one of the men punch me across the face. I let out a small wail of pain.

"Are you sure about that? Your friend, what's his name? Harold? He might think differently," Elias said calmly as if they were discussing what they were going to order at a restaurant.

"Neither of us even knows who she is. I'm not going to let you start threatening innocent people to get what you want. Let her go, Elias."

I felt my blindfold being torn from my face and the sudden sense of sight hurt my eyes at first with the bright fluorescent lights flickering down on us all. I didn't realize it before because of the blindfold, but my eyes were watering from the pain. I wasn't going to cry though. Not here. That would be pitiful. Elias's voice suddenly got violent. He walked over to me and pulled my hair down so I was looking up at this man named John whose voice I loved. His eyes were like a magnet. I couldn't take my eyes away from his.

"You can't tell me he doesn't know who she is! Does she just not mean anything to him? It's alright, sweetheart, I know the feeling." He held a knife to my throat, right where the thin layer of skin covers my pulse.

"Elias, stop!" John yelled. He made a move forward, but the two men with guns stopped him. John moved so fast that my eyes couldn't follow him, but the next thing I knew, both men were on the floor while John held one of their guns.

Elias drew away from me and pulled out a gun of his own. The next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a shoot out between John and Elias.


	4. Chapter 4

The noise of gunshots resonated throughout the room. The warehouse was large and empty, making everything echo. It sounded like I was in the eye of a violent thunderstorm. I didn't run or get on the ground. I just stayed frozen in my chair, squeezing my eyes shut and praying that they wouldn't hit me with a flying bullet. This whole scenario lasted about 8 seconds, and then there was silence. I opened my eyes and looked around, seeing John approaching from my left side, gun in hand.

"Are you okay?" He asked, eyeing the gash on my head and the bruise forming on my face from getting punched. It took me awhile to respond. My ears were still ringing from the noise of the gunshots.

"Yes. Are you?"

He said yes, and helped me stand up. My legs were shaking a little and I stumbled forward, but he caught me. He went behind me and untied my hands. I tried to massage the red imprints from my wrists while the blood slowly flowed back into my palms.

"Thanks," I said, suddenly shy.

"Don't worry about it," he responded softly, wiping some of the blood from my face. "We should get out of here."

I nodded my head in agreement and followed John out of the warehouse. I glanced behind me and saw the two men still knocked out on the floor. Elias was nowhere to be found. He must've escaped somehow.

"Where's Elias?" I asked John before we left.

"He ran."

The cold New York air hit me like a stray bullet. John wrapped his long black coat over me and opened the passenger side of a dark colored car. I stared inside, reluctant to get in. I didn't want to be kidnapped twice today.

"Hey," John said, snapping me out of my internal debate of whether or not to get in the car, "you're safe now. No one else is going to hurt you."

I wanted so badly to trust him and I had nowhere else to go, so I got in the car. John got behind the wheel and started the engine, driving us out of this godforsaken part of New York and into the more populated, lighted city.

"Who are you?" I asked, breaking the silence that had taken over us inside the car.

He seemed hesitant, but answered anyway. "John."

I already knew his name, so I asked him another question. "Who is Harold?"

"A friend," he said simply. "Where do you live?" He looked over at me expectantly, waiting for me to give him directions to my nonexistent place of residence. Instead, I told him the whole story, about my internship letter from The Times promising me an apartment room, and how it turned out to be a forgery letter from Elias and his crew. "Now I have nothing," I finished, remembering how my suitcases filled with all of my things were probably in Elias's possession now.

John gave me a sympathetic look, and his gaze made me blush. I looked down at my hands. Silence swept over us again, until John changed the subject and said, "I'm assuming you have a name."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed that I didn't introduce myself before. "I'm Harmony."

"Harmony," he repeated. "Why would they kidnap you?" His voice sounded distant, so I didn't know if he was just thinking out loud or asking me.

"I don't know," I said. "Where are we going?"

"Since you have nowhere to stay, I'm bringing you to Harold's."

We finally arrived to a secluded area, and I started to feel anxious again. John must have sensed my change in emotion because he said, "Harold's a very private person."

John led me through the door and into a large, darkened room. We headed upstairs and down a hallway, toward another door. There were books everywhere, most of them old-looking and a little dusty.

_Who would live in a place like this? _ I wondered. It looked completely abandoned.

John opened the door and unknowingly answered my question. Sitting behind a row of computers was a man who seemed older than John, with light brown hair and black rimmed glasses. He didn't look up from one of the computers. He seemed very involved in what he was doing, and I felt bad that I was going to be the cause of his interruption.

"Finch?" John said, trying to get his attention.

He looked up at the sound of his name and seemed startled to see me. He stood up and walked towards us. I noticed he had a limp. "Mr. Reese, what's she doing here?" He didn't sound hostile, just stressed or worried.

"She had nowhere else to go. I'm not going to leave her out on the streets."

"Oh, I don't mind," he said, composing himself, "but you didn't have to bring her up _here_." He glanced at all of his computers.

"Its fine, Finch. Anyway, Elias said you know her."

"Mr. Reese, I need to talk to you alone please," he said.

"She's hurt. Can't it wait?"

Harold looked at me more closely, with an expression on his face that confused me. It was caring, almost loving. It was quite a switch from the nervous looking man he was a few seconds ago.

"Of course," he said. "I suppose she needs to hear this, too, sooner or later."

John looked just as confused as me as we both followed Harold into the room with all of the computers. He told me to sit down while he left the room and came back with a cloth wet with water. He placed it gently on the gash on my head. I winced a little, but it felt good more than it hurt. John stood against the wall, waiting for whatever it was Harold needed to tell us.

"Harmony Briana Young," Harold said. I looked up at him in shock.

"How do you know my full name?" I asked him. He looked at one of the computer screens behind me, so I did the same. On the screen was my birth certificate.

**This certifies name: **_Harmony Briana Young _**sex: **_female_ **was born to:**_ Caroline Marie Young_ **and: on **_Monday_** of **_1983_ **this** _31__st_ **day of **_October_**.**

I didn't read anymore. I couldn't. I just looked at this man, Harold, incredulously. How did he get my birth certificate?

"Harmony," he said. "I believe I'm your father."


	5. Chapter 5

I looked down at my hands. My mind went blank for awhile. Everything was happening too fast. I was kidnapped, I met a man who took my breath away every time he looked at me, and now someone I just met was claiming to be my father. I looked up at Harold's face, studying him. The room was silent.

"I apologize for the blunt delivery, but now would be the time to say something," Harold said nervously.

I stood up from the spinning chair, and walked out of the room. I had to. My eyes felt like two heavy rainclouds. I ran down the stairs and went outside. I didn't want to stray too far, because I knew Elias was still out there somewhere. It wasn't as cold as I was expecting, and that's when I remembered I was still wearing John's coat. I leaned against the brick wall near the door and slid down to the concrete, burying my face in my hands and crying.

I thought about calling Elliot, until I realized that Elias had everything I owned. Maybe there was a pay phone around, but I didn't have any money. Elliot was probably worried about me. I had promised to call him when I had everything settled. By now he had probably tried to call me and ask what was going on. I heard someone step outside beside me and I quickly stood up and backed away.

"Harmony, it's just me." It was John.

"Are you here to tell me you're my cousin?" I asked sarcastically, trying to hide the fact that I was crying just a minute ago.

He smiled. "No, I'm here to tell you that you should come back inside."

"Why?"

"Because you can't stay out here forever."

"I could just leave, you know," I said, more to myself than to him. "Go back to West Virginia; just forget everything that's happened."

"You can't run from everything. Some things you can't forget." He had a distant look in his eyes like he was recalling a painful memory. "Plus I don't want you to leave," he said, then he seemed shy and quickly added, "and neither does Harold."

I managed a small smile and tried not to blush. "Alright," I said.

"Shall we?" He held his arm out to me and I grabbed it while he led me back inside. We walked to the stairs, but he held back. I stopped and turned around, wishing he would come with me. He must've thought me and Harold needed some privacy. I continued up the stairs, taking a deep breath. What was I supposed to say to this man? I got to the top of the stairs and turned toward the room that Harold occupied with all of his computers.

The door was open. I walked as silently as I could to the room. When I got to the doorway, Harold hadn't noticed me yet, so I stepped further into the room. He looked up and we considered each other for a second. He then stood up slowly, like he was afraid he would startle me and I would run back outside again.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, after telling myself to not be a coward.

"Don't be. I understand," he said, while limping towards me. He looked into my eyes. "You look just like her."

"My mother?" I guessed.

"Yes."

"I never knew her."

A kind of sadness painted his eyes. He must've had information on her, like he did me, because he didn't ask much more about her.

I continued, "Where were you?"

"I didn't know," he said, looking at the ground in dismay.

I started to get frustrated. "How could you not know?"

He didn't answer. Instead he walked back to his computers. I followed him.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"There's something you need to know about me, Harmony," he seemed a little uncomfortable saying my name. "I'm not like most people. In fact, everyone thinks I'm dead."

"What? Why?" Again, he didn't answer. His hesitancy to tell me things was making me impatient with him, but I refused to let myself get angry. I remember John telling me that Harold was a private person, and I just had to respect that for now. Maybe with time we would learn more about each other. Would we ever have a normal father-daughter relationship? Probably not. I wanted to know, though, why he left her, who he was, why everyone thinks he's dead, but I didn't ask any more personal questions. Instead I asked, "Can I use your cell phone?" I noticed he had one sitting right near his hand resting on the desk. He seemed prepared to grab it at any moment.

"Why?"

"So I can call someone."

"I'll get you your own cell phone tomorrow, how's that?"

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"It won't be a problem."  
"Thank you." I almost said his name, but it seemed wrong to call him Harold now. I didn't feel comfortable calling him 'dad.' It was too soon.

"You're staying here, I presume?" he asked.

"I have nowhere else to go."  
He smiled. "Well I wouldn't have it any other way."

Everything seemed to be working out well so far. I just kept reminding myself to keep an open mind about everything and stifle my urge to just leave it all behind and go back to Elliot. Harold insisted I take his bedroom for now until we got things settled, but I refused. I assured him that the pull out sofa downstairs would suffice.

As I walked down the stairs, I noticed John sitting in a chair and skimming through a book. "You're in my bedroom," I said jokingly as he set the book aside on a table. I place the pillow and blankets Harold had given me on the sofa.

"Everything okay now?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, although I wasn't satisfied with Harold's silence to my questions.

"Good," he said, smiling and turning to leave.

"John." He stopped and turned around. I walked up to him and gave him his coat back. "Thank you," I said, "for everything." His hand brushed mine as he grabbed his coat and a current swept through my body. I wondered if he felt it too.

"Anytime," he said with sincerity as he rubbed my shoulder in assurance. He turned and left without another word. These two men were still a mystery to me. I had crash landed into their secret world, and tomorrow I was going to get some answers.


	6. Chapter 6

_Elias walked around the room with an air of confidence. He knew he had complete control over this situation. His shadowy figure glided towards me like a snake. "I'm sorry you're all alone in this world, Harmony, but so was I, and I survived." He turned his back to me and I thought about running, but for some reason I couldn't move. "I don't think you're going to be as fortunate." Elias turned around, blade in hand, and slashed my throat. I grabbed the deep cut across my neck and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. It wouldn't stop, and I looked down at my red stained hands, screaming._

"Harmony, wake up, sweetie." My eyes shot open to the sound of Harold's voice and the warmth of his hand gently shaking me. "You were screaming," he said when he saw I was awake. I sat up on my pullout sofa bed and raised my hand to my neck, feeling the smoothness of skin, no blood or cuts. "Is everything okay?" he asked, sensing my distress.

"Yeah," I said, and let out a small laugh. "Just a nightmare." I shook my head, trying to erase the nightmare from my mind. I noticed the absence of Harold's hand from my shoulder, and I missed it being there. It was warm and comforting. I wondered if this is how it would've been if he was around when I was little.

He gave me a sympathetic look and said, "I brought you some coffee." He handed me a paper cup with hot coffee in it and I wrapped my hands around its steaming warmth. I didn't know what time it was and the room was quite dark, but I figured it was morning if Harold was giving me coffee.

"Thank you," I said, taking a sip.

Harold stood up and sat down in the armchair that John was reading in last night. "I'm sorry about last night," he said. "I understand you want answers about the past. You have a right to know these things."

I kept quiet and took another sip of my coffee, waiting for him to answer my questions. Before he could speak again, John busted through the door.

"I got here as quick as I could," he said, looking at Harold. Without exchanging any words, they both went upstairs. Before he left, Harold said to me, "Wait here. I'll be right back." But I was impatient and curious, so once they were on the second floor, I went upstairs too. They were looking at a picture of a dark haired man and another picture of a blond woman. I heard them mention the name 'Jordan Hester,' but they both stopped and looked up when I walked in.

"Why all the secrecy?" I asked. "I _am_ your daughter, you know."

"We run a dangerous business, Harmony," said Harold. "I just think it would be safer for you if you don't get involved."

I sat down on the spinning chair disobediently and said, "So, what are you guys- like police?"

They both exchanged glances. "Not exactly," said John and it looked like he was about to explain, but Harold interrupted him by saying, "You trail the man and I can trail the woman."

"You're both leaving?" I asked.

"You'll be safe here," said Harold. "Oh and by the way," he handed me a cell phone. "My number's programmed in already and so is John's. And it might be better if you stay in today."

"Cool, thanks," I said halfheartedly.

They both headed out of the room and into the outside world, John giving me an apologetic look before leaving. Once I heard the door shut, I dialed Elliot's number. It ringed seven times. No answer. Okay, I expected that. He wouldn't know this number. I tried again. Still no answer. I called him five more times before giving up. The last time, I left him a voicemail. "Hey El, it's me, Harmony. Please call me back soon."

I looked at the only two numbers in my contacts list: Harold Finch and John Reese in alphabetical order. I added Elliot's name and phone number. I thought about calling Clark Winston, my adoptive father, but decided against it. He wouldn't care if I was calling him from my death bed.

I walked around my dad's office-like room and examined everything. On the walls, there were rows and rows of nine digit numbers. Each number had a string attached to it leading to someone's picture or an address. I came to the conclusion that these numbers were social security numbers, but how my dad obtained them, I had no idea. How did he even obtain my birth certificate? Apparently he was really good at uncovering personal information. Maybe he was a spy.

But all these numbers… surely there weren't _that_ many people that needed to be spied on in New York City. My mind was starting to hurt by trying to figure everything out, so I walked downstairs and saw the book that John was reading still sitting on the end table next to the armchair. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was mainly about guns and other military equipment. I set it back down and headed outside despite Harold's orders.

I held my cell phone in the air until I saw all of the bars full. Once I had full service, I tried calling Elliot again. He still didn't answer. I sat on a sidewalk for awhile, letting the sun soak into my skin. I finally stood up and went back inside to sleep, hopefully more peaceful this time, until Harold and John got back.

…

I was in a light sleep, so naturally the sound of the front door opening was enough to wake me up. John was leading Harold inside and I walked towards them, waiting to hear what they were up to all this time.

"HARMONY! What is cracka lackin?"

I looked surprised at my dad, taken aback by his overly enthusiastic greeting.

"LSD," John explained quickly. "It should be out of his system soon, but here," he said, handing some water bottles to Harold, "you should drink that so you don't get dehydrated."

Harold grabbed the water bottles and looked at them curiously. We led him upstairs and turned to walk away, but Harold stopped us by saying, "Wait, you're leaving?"

"I'll stick around," said John, "but you should really try to get some sleep."

"Don't you wanna talk?"

"You might regret it in the morning. You're a very private person, remember?"

Harold looked at me expectantly. I thought for a moment. Now could be my chance to find out anything and everything I wanted. It was so tempting, but I decided against it. If he was going to give me answers, I wanted it to be on his own terms. "Maybe later," I said, leaving the room with John.

Once downstairs, John sat down on the armchair again, keeping his promise to stay for awhile, while I sat down on the sofa.

"What happened?" I asked. The second day knowing my father and he's high as a kite on LSD.

"It's complicated. We ran into some trouble. Finch was drugged by someone, but its okay now."

"Who drugged him?"

"A woman named Mary who was going under the name Jordan Hester."

"So… you work for my father?"

"Yes."

"What do you two do?"

He half-smiled. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"

I smiled back, shrugging. "I'm determined to find out one way or another."

"Guess," he said.

"Spies?"

He thought for a moment. "Not exactly."

"That's what you said when I asked if you were police." I waited for a response but he stayed silent, waiting for me to guess again. "Not exactly police, not exactly spies… I don't know. Secret agents? Superheroes? Assassins?"

He smirked at my last two suggestions then said, "Let's just say we know when something bad is about to happen, and we try to stop it from happening."

"So you're psychics?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Your father… he developed a machine that can predict violent crimes. We work together to stop them."

"Right," I said, a little skeptical.

It was getting dark out. John stood up and said, "Finch should be okay now. I better get going."

"Oh, okay," I said, disappointed. I was enjoying his company. I walked with him to the front door, but before he left, I said, "John?" He turned to face me and I hugged him. "Thanks for bringing him back in one piece," I said. He hugged me back and we stayed like that for awhile. I honestly wished I could stay in his arms all night, safe and warm. He seemed reluctant to end our embrace too, or maybe I was just imagining things. He touched my cheek and ran his thumb over my cheekbone.

"You're welcome," he said, quietly. I looked into his ice blue eyes, while he looked into my green eyes. Then he turned and left, leaving me breathless and wanting more. I dreamed of John that night.


End file.
